Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

481. John Anderson My Jo 1/3/2003
482. A Fiddler In The North 1/1/2004
483. John Barleycorn: A Ballad 5/13/2001
484. Willie Wastle 12/31/2002
485. Scotch Drink 12/31/2002
486. A Poets's Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter 5/13/2001
487. Carigieburn Wood 5/13/2001
488. Song—Composed in Spring 5/13/2001
489. To A Louse 12/31/2002
490. Coming Through The Rye 1/13/2003
491. Highland Mary 5/13/2001
492. A Dedication 1/1/2004
493. Address To The Unco Guid 1/1/2004
494. To A Kiss 12/31/2002
495. Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear 5/13/2001
496. Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning 12/31/2002
497. Afton Water 5/13/2001
498. Address To The Tooth-Ache 5/13/2001
499. Address To The Devil 5/13/2001
500. Tam O' Shanter 12/31/2002
501. Address To A Haggis 12/31/2002
502. A Bard's Epitaph 1/1/2004
503. Ae Fond Kiss 5/13/2001
504. A Dream 1/1/2004
505. A Bottle And Friend 1/1/2004
506. To A Mouse 12/31/2002
507. A Winter Night 5/13/2001
508. Auld Lang Syne 5/13/2001
509. My Heart's In The Highlands 1/13/2003
510. A Man's A Man For A' That 5/13/2001
511. A Fond Kiss 1/3/2003
512. A Red, Red Rose 5/13/2001

Comments about Robert Burns

  • Ted Mohr (12/11/2009 11:35:00 AM)

    Your copy of Robert Burns' A Man's a Man for A' That appears to me to have left out one line in the final stanza which when entered would make the 5th and 6th lines read:
    For a' that, an' a' that,
    It’s cuming yet, for a' that,

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Best Poem of Robert Burns

A Fond Kiss

A fond kiss, and then we sever;
A farewell, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Nothing could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lov'd say kindly,
Had we never lov'd say blindly,
Never met--or never parted--
We had ne'er been ...

Read the full of A Fond Kiss

John Anderson My Jo

John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is bled, John,
Your locks are like the straw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo!

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